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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28227441">The Letter for The King Season 2: Darkness Rising</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosesunlight/pseuds/rosesunlight'>rosesunlight</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Letter for the King (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, But Not Much, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Foldo actually feels emotions instead of what we got in the series guys, Foldo needs a hug, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Jussipo Lives (The Letter for the King), Justice for Jussipo (The Letter for the King), M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Secret Relationship, Team as Family, light homophobia, season 2 spec-fic, so like very little, the gays are unburied</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-21</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 15:55:12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,328</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28227441</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosesunlight/pseuds/rosesunlight</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The Danger Knights are grieving a fallen friend, Lavinia is struggling with the guilt of not healing Jussipo when she could have, and life still seems to be going on. Foldo fears his life may never return to normal without his love by his side.<br/>Meanwhile, something is stirring not too far from Unawen, and whispers of a dark presence have taken the kingdom by storm--Prince Iridian fears that somehow his brother may not be as dead as they first thought.<br/>A new prophecy has risen, speaking of two children, strong enough to cast the darkness back once and for all, but will Iridian be able to track them down in time, and will they be too divided to help him fight back?</p>
<p>TL;DR--Jamie was unhappy with the way the series ended so he said "screw it" and wrote his own season 2, with gays unburied and Tiuri having the opportunity to wield magic.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Foldo &amp; Lavinia (The Letter for the King), Foldo &amp; Piak (The Letter for the King), Foldo/Jussipo (The Letter for the King), Jussipo &amp; Piak (The Letter for the King), Lavinia/Tiuri the Younger (The Letter for the King)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Letter for The King Season 2: Darkness Rising</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>After delivering the letter to the King, all seemed to return to normal. Prince Iridian, struggling with the grief of killing his brother, and longing for Queen Alianor, approaches a seer to speak with Veridian. He discovers something unnerving to do with that night his brother died. Meanwhile, the Danger Knights deal with life after Jussipo, and how they separately deal with the passing of their friend. Lavinia tries to control her powers and the regret she feels from being unable to save Jussipo. Iona and Jaro stumble upon a campsite full of the lost and lonely.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The streets of Unauwen were quiet this time of night. It was easy for people to sneak out, to evade prying eyes. The cobblestone streets were empty, save for the occasional homeless man or children being ushered back to their houses for bed. No one would notice the cloaked figure moving like a shadow towards the hut on the outskirts of the Unauwen borders. The hut was purple, with different coloured blankets draped around the outside, lanterns lighting the way. </p><p>The man took his cloak down as he approached the hut, hearing windchimes as he walked through the foothold of the hut, stopping short. The appearance of the hut was quaint: it was something you’d expect from one of the remaining shamans who had sought asylum. There was a sleeping bag outstretched in one of the far corners, also draped in an array of blankets, and an apothecary table to another side, with a steaming bowl of an unknown liquid brewing. It smelt like parchment and peppermint, and it was so strong that the man had to blink strongly to get the tears out of his eyes.</p><p>The woman who occupied the hut had appeared out of nowhere, humming to herself. She was dressed unconventionally: a hair wrap around her locks, bangles on her wrist and neck, and a sleeveless purple gown on, with a single gold band around her waist. She was an older women, of Eviellan descent, glowing in the night as she gracefully moved from counter to counter, touching different jars.</p><p>“Have you ever heard the story of the Pauper and the Impostor? It’s quite interesting.” The woman mused, not moving to look at her guest at all.</p><p>The man moved a step forward, shaking his head “I cannot say that I have.”</p><p>“Oh, you must. Here,” She gestured to a seat in front of her table. “Sit.” She commanded. He raised an eyebrow. He was positive she didn’t know the man she was talking too. In this space, she was the ruler, not him.</p><p>He stammered out a response, supposed to eloquently explain how he was in a hurry “Well, you see, I came here to-”</p><p>The shaman cut him off with a wave of her hand, “You’re here because you’re seeing your slain brother’s ghost, yes, I know. Boring. The story of the Pauper and the Imposter is quite interesting, however. I shall tell it to you.” She brushed the man off as easy as ever and began to tell her story.</p><p>“A wizard, seeking cover from a war raging in his home country, decided to gain money by telling peoples fortunes. He would give their deaths; he would tell the paupers that they would die a horrible death and that to stop it, they would have to pay him for protection spells every new moon. The rich, he’d tell them of good fortune, but only if they provided the wizard with protection." </p><p>"Now, one day, a pauper boy was given his prophecy: he was told that there would be great darkness in his life and that his death would come from it if he didn’t pay for protection. The boy didn’t believe him, and so he refused to pay the wizard. Instead, he stood on a box and began to yell out to the skies, “darkness!” he cried out with his hands raised “strike me dead now if this mage speaks for you!”. He stayed there until sundown, waiting for something to happen.” The man was on the edge of his seat, leaning closer towards the shaman with every word.</p><p>“When nothing came, he left for his house. When the next day came, he found the wizard, telling prophecies in the same spot. He told the shaman in great haste that his hut had been broken into, and all his goods were being stolen. When the wizard shot up and found his belongings missing, the boy cried out. “You there! you say you can tell our fortunes; how can you not foresee your own?”. When the Wizard gave no response, he was chased out of town. He gave one final look to the kingdom and cursed the boy with the darkest magic he could think of. The wizard dissolved into a flock of birds, and a short moment after, the boy took ill, before bursting into a cloud of blackness and choosing to infect fifty people from all over the lands. Those fifty are said to be my ancestors. But, who knows?” The woman smiled under the light of her candles “It may just be a tall tale.”</p><p>“Do you believe it to be?” The man said, his eyes hung low. He was paler than he looked before his brother’s passing, and his stature was more hunched and drawn back. The shaman, however, saw through him, nodding thoughtfully.</p><p>“I do. I believe that boy is the cause of the darkness that took your brother, Prince Iridian. I believe the boy, in whatever form, may still be out there, looking for souls. And worse, I believe that he may have taken another quite recently.”</p><p>//<br/>
Foldo had been quiet ever since it happened. The others didn’t really notice, too wrapped up in their own grief and reunions with their families. Foldo attempted to do the same, but his parents acted as if he…if Jussipo wasn’t gone (he didn’t like the way that his name dangled easily on their tongues but was so hard to say for him). So he avoided them, and everyone that could remind him of his lost love that no one knew about. It would stay that way, Foldo was convinced, because he would never be able to speak about Jussipo without breaking down and crying.</p><p>He liked to spend his time on the fields furthest from Dagonaut. After they had buried him and were a mile away, Foldo had begged them to turn back. They didn’t deny him, and so, with a ritualistic silence that had only become routine in the past few days, they rode back, so Foldo could take his lute back. He couldn’t bear to part with the extension of Jussipo, he could see that now. He sat on the meadowy fields, strumming a tune he thought matched the one from that night at the campfire. </p><p>“Young Knights, their swords were gleaming,” His voice was nothing compared to that of his Jussipo’s. His was scratchy from screaming and crying and sounded off-key. “H-his looks were so alluring...young Foldo’s heart was purring”</p><p>He didn’t hear Tiuri approaching, his hawk swooping overhead. He didn’t hear over the soft strumming of the lute. Foldo had to stop, swallowing the tears down so he could do the ballad justice so that he would never forget the way it sounded while Jussipo sang it.</p><p>“and the love between them lasted…” he sniffed loudly, wiping a tear “’ till the grave.”</p><p>Tiuri felt as if he had interrupted something so intimate he should be blushing. The song was soulful, and there was no way it had been composed by Foldo. “It’s a lovely song.” He complimented, but the sudden sound of his voice made Foldo jump, wiping his tears frantically. He didn’t have enough strength to protest.</p><p>Tiuri sat down next to Foldo, watching as the Hawk sat on his arm, preening its feathers. “You two were in love.” It was a statement wrapped down in an aura of questions that Foldo didn’t feel like answering. But he did nonetheless, with a heavy sigh and an even heavier heart.</p><p>“Yes”</p><p>“And you didn’t tell any of us?”</p><p>There was a pause as Foldo tried to navigate his answer “No.”</p><p>“Alright.”</p><p>“That’s it?” Foldo asked. He didn’t realise how much he wanted to talk until someone approached him.</p><p>Tiuri shrugged, leaning back on his hands, kicking his legs in the grass “I figure if you want to talk…you’ll tell me instead of me being insensitive. We lost a friend, you lost so much more.”</p><p>Foldo waited for a second to compose himself before scrunching his eyes, but the tears still slipped down his cheeks “I-I didn’t know it would hurt this much,” Tiuri met his eyes with sad, compassionate ones “The night before you came back to us…that’s when. But I know I’m in love with him. I always will be…but-oh my god, he’s actually gone.”</p><p>“You never told us…it’s been a month, Foldo. You’ve bore the weight of this alone for too long.” Tiuri said although the way he spoke was airy, without any real agency or an imperative call to action. Foldo was grateful for that: he was so tired of orders.</p><p>“I do not do well asking for help.”</p><p>Tiuri nodded “I know,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck, where his hair was slightly thicker and harder to rake a hand through, “Jussipo told Piak you were painfully stubborn, and Piak told me when we…when we came back from where it happened”</p><p>Foldo let out a large sigh, burying his face in his hands in pure shame “Piak…I’ve been avoiding him, the poor kid.” Tiuri patted Foldo on the back.</p><p>“He’s smarter than you know. He understands why you’re distancing yourself; he just doesn’t have the full picture. Two boys…two knights-well, they don’t usually fall in love.”</p><p>Foldo snorted. He expected this from someone like Arman, that stinging rejection. “And you?” He asked the boy, who had risen to his feet, dusting off his slacks. “What do you make of it?”</p><p>“How do you mean?”</p><p>“Do you still want to fight alongside me?”</p><p>Tiuri looked taken aback for a second, before regaining his knightly composure, like they had been taught to do in their training “I would fight by your side throughout it all,” He sincerely responded, “Foldo, you have to understand: another group of knights may not have fought alongside an Evellian. Your group does. Just think about it, alright?”</p><p>Foldo didn’t understand what he was insinuating straight away, but when he did, he nodded meekly “Alright.”</p><p>“Good,” Said Tiuri, “Now, on your feet. You missed morning training, and Arman already wants your head for it.”</p><p>“I don’t know…” Foldo hesitated, clutching the lure firmly in his hands. He rarely left it behind now; unless he was training, in which case it always stayed in his room. The other boy extended a friendly hand to help him up from the floor, which Foldo accepted graciously.</p><p>Tiuri always did have a good way of convincing his friends, “Come on, what are you going to do? Mope around for the rest of your life? Not on my watch. Get a move on.” He instructed, wrapping an arm around the blond as they walked to the training ground.</p><p>//<br/>
Jaro and Iona had indeed headed west. As far west as they could, to be exact. Iona had heard of what happened to Jussipo after she left, and, although she felt no allegiance to her old friends, she did mourn for the loss of life. It was hard to stick by the red riders that hadn’t been captured after that. Jaro understood; he was good at understanding her, although he’d never admit to caring for her. She was fine with that.</p><p>They’d been riding through the countryside for ages, seeing nothing but hills and mountains, and Iona could tell her horse was getting tired. Although she wanted to continue as west as she could, she didn’t want to kill her steed in the process.</p><p>“We’ve been riding for days. Let’s stop.” Iona said, promptly stopping her horse and dismounting as if it was an easy feat. Jaro sometimes had to remind himself that Iona had trained to be a knight for many moons before their meeting. He gave no response, but grunted, dismounting himself, although much slower. “Where are we going to, anyway?”</p><p>Jaro snorted “You suggested west. This is west.”</p><p>“You didn’t have to follow, but you did. This is a joint effort.”</p><p>Jaro sighed, grabbing his flask of water, and taking a large swig. He let out a gasp once he had finished, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and taking another look around “Too exposed here. There’s a forest, we should go towards it.”</p><p>Iona made grabbing hands for the water. Jaro rolled his eyes but relented, handing over the flask as the girl mirrored his movements “Who’s going to be out here? We’d frighten a few cows, that’s for certain.”</p><p>“You never know who may be watching. Come.” He said, ushering her towards the blackened forest, which, now the sun was going down, seemed a lot more formidable than she thought. Iona straightened up, clenching her jaw, and led her horse towards the forest.</p><p>Once inside, she noted how dark it had become—they had walked into the forest at sunset, and now, a mere few minutes later, it was if something had covered the sun and dragged the moon out before it was ready. Iona shivered; the temperature was decreasing rapidly as well, and suddenly, she felt very unsafe so surrounded by trees and foliage.</p><p>She covered it up with a snarky comment, “Great,” She scoffed, “now we’re going to get lost.”</p><p>Jaro shushed her pointedly pressing a finger to his lips, grabbing his sword. “I heard something.” He said, before advancing to where he had heard the noise, a soft murmur of voices.</p><p>Iona followed suit, drawing her weapon and leaving her horse as it was. They stalked towards what seemed like a campsite, with a group of no less than twenty huddled around a bonfire, eating food sombrely. Jaro looked back to the girl, and with a nod of his head, they both sprung into action, swords raised.<br/>
They came face to face with a monk, old and grey, who didn’t look like he could do much harm. Still, he was on his feet, weapon raised. Another man raised his hands outwards to the two red riders.</p><p>“Stop!” He bellowed, “we are but peaceful travellers.”</p><p>The other monk lowered his weapon and returned to his seat around the campfire, while the second smiled and nodded his head to the two riders. “Apologies. We did not know if it had returned for us.”</p><p>Iona furrowed her eyebrows, “It?”</p><p>“Yes—the darkness. We were in our monastery, where we help rehabilitate lost and broken souls, when…it’s hard to explain, apologies.” He paused before recollecting himself, “first, birds were swarming overhead, and then…this black mass of darkness came in and started destroying everything near. We fled—well, all of us that survived.” The man explained, before defeatedly sitting back down as well.</p><p>Iona was curiously enjoying the man’s story: mainly because this meant Prince Viridian could have still been alive, which meant that someone had to warn Unawen and Dagonaut, even if she no longer served with the Knights.</p><p>“Do you know what it was looking for?”</p><p>The man shrugged, “No, we have yet to return.”</p><p>“Did you see anyone controlling it? A man, maybe?”</p><p>“No…this…thing, it was working alone. Samson, here, he believes we saw death herself.”</p><p>Iona pretended that the chill going down her spine was just from the cold, even though she was standing so close to the open flame the monks had going.</p><p>//<br/>
The training ground for knights was different from the novice ones they had become used to. There was much more space, an array of weapons cleaned almost daily and set up on a wooden rack, as well as different platformed spaces to practice fighting from different heights. Where people had scuffed their feet and fell, the grass had died out, leaving dry brown patches in places. The group had begun training, fighting each other with skill and precision he had only seen one other time: when they were fighting against the red riders. Folds tried not to gag at the very thought of the sound that sword made when it cut into his Jussipo. </p><p>Arman took another sweeping stab at Piak, who dodged and tucked himself behind one of the boxes used for height training. He jumped on top of the box, lunging forward so the tip of his sword leveled with Arman’s neck. The youngest knight laughed; wiping sweat off his brow.</p><p>“I’ve bested you in all combat, now, Arman. You have to say it: say I’m the best marksman you’ve ever met.” The boy taunted, getting down from the box and landing on his toes, still jumping around the place. </p><p>“Never going to happen, Tiny,” Arman replied snarkily.</p><p>“Tiny?!” The boy looked affronted and outraged. Foldo smiled: he saw so much of Jussipo in his brother. Piak had grown into a fearsome fighter, hardly ever leaving training-Tiuri was convinced it was because when he went home, his brother wasn’t there to congratulate him, and his mother was in Jussipo’s room, clearing things out one at a time, only managing a few items before she broke down into horrid ugly sobs, those reserved for something so tragic as losing a son before he hit 17. Piak wasn’t there to hear them if he was working out his emotions a new way: through combat and self-scheduled training.</p><p>Lavinia had come down, which sometimes happened now and then, so she could train her powers without her father’s watchful gaze turned to her. She, although she’d never admitted it, also missed her group of knights, missed the feeling of completion when they were all together, resting under the stars after a night of travelling to deliver the letter to the king. Except, they weren’t all together, and they never would be again: Iona had betrayed them so many times it stung, and poor Jussipo had paid the price for her actions, for Iona’s desperation to belong and be respected.</p><p>Lavinia hadn’t known Jussipo for long. Truthfully, they’d only been aquatinted for a few days before his death. She didn’t feel the right to mourn, and it wasn’t like he was the first death she’d seen. It did feel different to how she’d been told, though. Knights died on the battlefield, in a blaze of glory and fire. Jussipo’s fate wasn’t like that. It was painful, slow, and away from the action that killed him. It wasn’t glorious, it was sad and depressing.</p><p>The more she looked back, the more she wished she had tried to heal him. The guilt she carried was like carrying a heavy rock on her back. Every time she saw Piak, she was reminded of the burden she was carrying, and the pain she had unknowingly caused. To cope, she buried herself in textbooks and studies of magic, of the other side to this life. She’s researched everything her powers should do, down to even communicating with the dead (although, she’s never reached out to Jussipo, where he was, because she didn’t feel like she had the right, or that he’d want to talk to her). So far, nothing could help her bring him back. She had almost accepted this, and Tiuri had been a big help, as he was now, gearing up to help her use her powers.</p><p>Piak had stopped as soon as he saw Foldo enter. Foldo looked gaunt and hollowed out, thin and fragile. He didn’t look in fighting condition and hadn’t since that night, but Piak didn’t take notice: he still bounded towards him and wrapped him in a large hug that Foldo weakly returned. “Foldo!” He said, in his high voice.</p><p>Arman was harsher “where have you been? You haven’t shown up to training for days, weeks even.” He pointed out. If you were to ask how Arman was dealing with Jussipo’s death, he’d respond that he wasn’t. That was true, in some ways. He wasn’t like Foldo, off in a faraway land where nothing had happened, but he wasn’t coping like Tiuri was, who had seen so much death he knew exactly how to process everything. Arman occasionally let his emotions out, punching the wall in his room, but then wrapped his hand up and forgot about his fit of rage.</p><p>Tiuri defended the boy, raising his hand diplomatically “Arman, could you drop it for one day?”</p><p>“No!” Arman was defiant, waving his long sword around freely, carelessly as he went on at Foldo, who had his head bowed, “he comes back looking like something out of his own campfire stories, and expects us just to pretend he’s alright?”</p><p>Tiuri’s tone became more stern as Lavinia walked across to him, so she too was facing Arman, “Arman, let’s just get back to training, yeah?”</p><p>“No, Tiuri! Stop making defences for him! He’s not been here when we needed him the most!”</p><p>Foldo had had enough, almost bursting at the seams “You have no clue what I’m going through!”</p><p>Arman walked up to him, so he was right in Foldo’s teary face, and stared at him with ferocious anger “we know exactly what you’re going through! Jussipo was our friend too!”</p><p>Tiuri winced, as if the name physically left a bruise on his skin. Foldo pushed Arman back, crying out loudly, “He wasn’t my friend!” Arman seemed to withdraw after this statement “he was my smile, my melody and my song, and I’ve prayed to a god who glares down upon my existence to feel his kiss again! He wasn’t my friend, Arman. He was mine.”</p><p>Foldo stomped off towards his room, leaving a shocked gaggle of friends in his wake. Piak’s eyes were like saucers, wide and bright. He always knew something was going on between Foldo and his brother, he just didn’t realise they were truly in love. Lavinia didn’t have any emotions shown on her face, the best Tiuri could guess at was knowingness. Arman was more in shock, staring at the spot where Foldo had been a few seconds ago.</p><p>“Was…was that a joke?”</p><p>Tiuri’s response was curt and short “Do you see me laughing?”</p><p>Lavinia’s arm was tight on Tiuri’s, squeezing softly as his eyes caught hers. Her smile was wavering, but she kept up the front, knowing they all needed someone to be strong at that very moment, and no one else was going to be up for it. “I’ll go see if he’s alright.”</p><p>“I think we already know the answer.” Tiuri grimly responded sending another pointed glare at Arman. “I’ll go, I already knew, so maybe I’ll come off as more understanding”</p><p>Lavinia shook her head “No, I should go. He doesn’t know me that well, it’s easier to talk to someone if you don’t know them.” She said, and Tiuri for once agreed, sending her off on her way. </p><p>Piak was no longer quiet, his jaw was still dropped, though. “I didn’t know we could do that!” He said, and Arman spoke up.</p><p>“Do what?”</p><p>“You know,” Piak responded as if he was being as clear as glass “kiss other boys”</p><p>Arman sighed, placing his sword back in the box where it came from, turning back to Piak, the same Piak who was still in mourning, the same one who was simply curious about his brother’s relationship with a fellow knight and frowned “we can’t.”</p><p>Tiuri was gobsmacked. He may not have known much about proper Dagonaut discourse, but he was sure, like it was in Eviellan, that being in love wasn’t restricted. “Don’t listen to him, Piak. The love between two boys or two girls is just as valid as the love between your parents.”</p><p>Arman had already walked away, unable to hear Piak’s unending questions about that certain topic that Tiuri knew almost nothing about.</p><p>//<br/>
Lavinia found Foldo in the village square, sitting on a seat with one hand tucked in the lure like a safety blanket. He wasn’t playing any notes, he was just holding it, running a thumb up the sides on the strings, where his lover’s fingers used to strum out different chords. His eyes were like boldened storm clouds, overcast, and sad. With one stroke of the Lure, a memory flew back to him, hitting him in the face with all the strength of a mighty crossbow.<br/>
~~<br/>
“Shhh, you’re going to wake Piak up, daft apeth!” Foldo whispered at Jussipo, drunk on love. Jussipo only smiled back up at him, shifting so he could no longer accidentally hit the instrument by mistake.</p><p>He mumbled out an apology as they continued to kiss one another in a loving embrace, Foldo hovering over Jussipo like a warm, comforting but looming figure. It was the look of adoration on his face that struck him as beyond words or song. He wanted to stare up at Foldo forever but was moved just as he went to lean in again so that he was resting upon Foldo’s chest, secure and safe in his arms.</p><p> It was intimate, and although they both realised the importance of sleep, this moment was the most important need of all. Foldo’s lips were tingling as they both stared up at the stars appearing from behind tufts of clouds, watching the treetops sway calmly in the night sky as the wildlife stirred all around them. Jussipo was counting Foldo’s breaths steadily as if they’d run out.</p><p>Jussipo looked up at Foldo with a semblance of a shy smile; although, he was too prideful to admit when he was feeling such an emotion “Was that your first kiss?”</p><p>“I’m hurt, love, truly!”</p><p>Jussipo didn’t realise he could blush that kind of red “I liked that. Love.”</p><p>Foldo let out a breathy laugh, one that made Jussipo’s head shake on his chest “Really? My parents always say it, I thought most families have endearing nicknames.”</p><p>“I know,” Jussipo said, before turning so his head was sideways, staring up properly at Foldo with loving intensity “I just was never big on them. Until now, I guess. My parent’s nickname is embarrassing, though.” Jussipo said, tucking a strand of hair out of his vision.</p><p>“I shall make an attempt to call you love more, then, love,” Foldo said, half-joking. Jussipo slapped a fist down on his chest lightly.</p><p>“Shut up.”</p><p>There was a pause, where only the fire’s embers cracking and fizzling away could be heard.</p><p>“What would you call me?” Foldo asked.</p><p>Jussipo gave it thought, thinking long and hard for something that would fit an amazing creature such as his lover. “dulcissime.” Foldo gave a puzzled look “It’s Latin, my mother speaks it from her youth.”</p><p>Foldo’s heart did a little flutter at the thought of Jussipo speaking Latin. “What does it mean?” He asked, ever curious and thirsty for new information.</p><p>“sweetest.”<br/>
~~</p><p>Lavinia made her presence known by plodding down next to him, flattening the creases in her dress as she did so, sending the boy a friendly smile. He blinked hard, rubbing his eyes again as he brought himself out of the memory, the sound of “dulcissime” still floating through the wind and echoing off the walls of his mind.</p><p>“How are you?” Was all she could ask, before thoughtfully adding in some more insight “and don’t say you’re fine, because I can detect a lie like it’s a horse in a cow field.”</p><p>Foldo let out a small breathy laugh, which could only really be counted as an exhale if it wasn’t for the circumstances. “Everywhere I go, I see him. Piak’s smile, the way he jokes around, I even see him in Arman when he’s being less of an ass. Everywhere I turn, I’m reminded of his absence. Where he used to play those songs in the square, there’s now an empty box, and when I pass by the stables, I see his horse, unridden, with the door covered in bouquets from everyone he knew. And I want it to stop.”</p><p>Lavinia sighed “I cannot pretend to understand what you’re going through, so I won’t. All I will say is that you have to live for him, now, Foldo.”</p><p>Foldo looked at Lavinia with more tears falling down his face, a crack in his voice, “I want to live for him, but I need him to live.”</p><p>He broke down after that, letting himself be taken by sobs that he’d been holding off for weeks to seem put together. In the end. He hadn’t been fooling anyone but himself. Foldo let himself be wrapped into her arms, like his mother did whenever he used to have a nightmare as a child, and tried to stifle his cries as Lavinia shushed him. She was a good friend, he couldn’t help but think through his grieving haze, and he respected her greatly.  She was keeping something from him, though, he knew it. Lavinia was crying too.</p><p>“Foldo…I’m…I’m just so sorry.” She wept, and Foldo had to look up at her, wiping his eyes and sniffing loudly.</p><p>“What?” He said, straightening up. His other friends had walked in upon the scene, Tiuri dragging Arman by the ear as Piak followed closely on his heels. Lavinia gaped like a fish, wiping her own eyes on the sleeve of her dress. “What could you possibly be sorry for? I-it wasn’t your fault.”</p><p>She didn’t look any of them in the eyes “I healed Tiuri that day he was hurt, and…and I should have tried to…with Jussipo.”</p><p>Foldo retracted, shocked but too tired to display any real emotion “Wh…why…” He had to stop himself mid-sentence, clearing his throat. Piak seemed ready to fight Lavinia, even with her powers being stronger than he could ever hope to be. “You had just fought the darkness…and you expected to be able to heal-to heal him?” Foldo asked, and Lavinia nodded glumly.</p><p>“I’m just so sorry, Foldo!”</p><p>Foldo shook his head “That’s not what I meant. You were drained, Lavinia. When you found us, you were almost passed out, trying t-to heal him would’ve killed you! No-” He retorted when he noticed her about to interject “The only person to blame is the red rider who…who did kill him.”</p><p>Lavinia remained unconvinced, nodding half-heartedly as she looked around at the group of knights who had formed. Piak didn’t seem to have the same hospitality towards her that Foldo had, and Arman remained indifferent, in a shocking change of pace from his normal black and white attitude. Tiuri, well, his opinion of her never wavered, no matter what she did. It’s why she was so drawn to him and his energy. Once his opinion was made up on someone, there was hardly anything that could change his mind. The one exception was Iona, who had wounded them all in a way that could never properly be forgiven.</p><p>Tiuri, feeling the urge to step in and save the knights from the uncomfortable silence, took on his more paternal role in the group, stepping forward to take Foldo’s arm. He was numb and didn’t even react to Tiuri helping him to his feet. “Let’s go, Foldo,” He said, watching as the tallest out of them wobbled unsteadily on his feet, “you haven’t slept properly in a month.”</p><p>That translated to: you haven’t slept properly since the night Jussipo was in your arms, and there has to be a meaning for that, but I will not pry into it. And Foldo was thankful. Ever since his emotional outburst to his friends, all he has wanted to do is sleep and pray that everything was one long nightmare.</p><p>Arman was the one to speak up first, crossing his arms and looking at Lavinia “Well? Got anything to say for yourself?”</p><p>The girl snorted, shooting an icy look towards Arman, who returned the glare. “No.” She countered like they were sword fighting with every question and response. “Nothing to you, that is.” Lavinia turned her gaze to Piak, who still stood with a dumbfounded, absent stare on his face.</p><p>Arman blurted, “We have to fix this.” </p><p>Lavinia snorted her response fiercely, “Are you being intentionally dense? How can we?”</p><p>“Well, aren’t you a shaman or something? Do some magic and bring him back!”</p><p>Piak grew pale and started to fidget someone talking so freely about resurrecting his newly dead brother didn’t feel right, but if there was any way to get him back, Piak knew he would take it, even if the chances were incredibly low “She can’t do that!” He turned to a tightly-lipped Lavinia, who had grown silent “Can you, Lavinia?”</p><p>The girl fiddled with her sleeve before standing up and beckoning for the two boys “Follow me.”</p><p>//<br/>
“What do you mean, he may have taken another?” Prince Iridian asked as the mage casually flitted from her seat to across the room. She was humming a tune, and not paying any attention to the man in front of her. She had seen far more terrifying a man in her time, he assumed.</p><p>When she sat back down, she had a jar of ash in one hand “The night of your brother’s passing, I had a premonition. I usually only have them when touching a person, but this…well, it was like this force was everywhere. I felt him die, and with him, a piece of darkness fragmented into another.”</p><p>“I-I don’t understand…”</p><p>The shaman cut him off “Your brother is alive, Iridian.”</p><p>The drop of his formal title seemed uneasy and wrong. He had never been referred to as just Iridian before, his title was always held before everything else. This felt like the woman knew him, and there was something so much more terrifying about that.</p><p>“What? How? I killed him myself”</p><p>The woman tutted, popping open the jar of ash “You killed his corporeal form, yes. This darkness has preserved his soul, the fiber of his being,” She threw the ash across the table, small flecks of it hitting the prince as it rose in the air and twisted, making shapes in the air. Prince Iridian was in awe, but the Shaman looked as if she was deciphering a code. “tell me of the girl, the one composed of light?”</p><p>“Oh—um…” The prince stuttered out, feeling flustered all of a sudden under the pressure of a direct order “I-I don’t know much. She’s the daughter of Mistrinaut’s leader, um…there was a boy with her too, Eviellan, called himself Tiuri.”</p><p>“The shaman's son…” The woman mumbled, suddenly pensive and reflective.</p><p>“H-he didn’t have any magic, though.”</p><p>“Well,” She said in a moment of hilarity “I should hope not! No, his potential was reliant on Prince Veridian’s corporeal death. The girl, though: does she stay by his side?” She was urgent, touching him for the first time, before quickly retracting her hand as if she’d been scalded.</p><p>The prince frowned for a second before replying “Yes, I think so. Or from what Queen Alianor has told me.”</p><p>The woman hummed “Good…good, the prophecy is true, then.”</p><p>“Prophecy?” The prince asked, “what prophecy?”</p><p>The Eviellan seer smiled emptily, and the rustle of wind could be heard. Suddenly, her eyes were a hollow white, and her voice came out as if she were plunged underwater. Prince Iridian tried not to draw his sword from the pure shock, but drew back, listening to her prophecy.</p><p>“Two children of magic descent<br/>
With bonds as strong as cement<br/>
A friend will rise<br/>
Enemies may surprise<br/>
And their power will forever blend”</p><p>Prince Iridian had a horror-struck look on his face as the shaman suddenly snapped out of it, her eyes returning to black as she shook her head and yawned. “Oh, sorry, dear, it’s been a while since I’ve done that!” She laughed as if she hadn’t just been possessed. Prince Iridian, with eyes wide as saucers, shook his head. </p><p>"What was that?!”</p><p>“You asked to hear the prophecy, did you not? Well, you just heard it straight from the source. The light we shaman’s carry does not decide to speak to just anyone, Prince Iridian. It chose you.” She told the man, who seemed easily disturbed by his one-on-one encounter with the light. It was, to say the least, not how it had been described as by the elders who roamed the kingdom walls.</p><p>Iridian was hardly ever phased, and the feeling in his stomach was something he hadn’t felt for a long time. He regained himself, holding his posture in the way he’d been taught like a true future king. “When does this prophecy take place?”</p><p>The shaman laughed bitterly, and he suddenly knew what he had said had been in poor taste. “Could be a month, a week…maybe even on the eve of their eighteenth birthdays. They do not come when we want, in most cases. I suspect, due to the current climate, it will arrive soon.”</p><p>“Why did you tell me this instead of them?”</p><p>“Well,” The shaman paused thoughtfully “Their only known enemy, as it would seem, is your brother, the one you keep seeing. Tell me; when you see him, is he a past version of himself?”</p><p>“I don’t follow”</p><p>“If he was a past version, then he’s dead in a ditch—a vision of him as a child, or before this war business started. If he appears to you as he was before he was taken by the darkness a final time, then we have problems.”</p><p>Iridian needed no time to think. This image was clean in his head, being branded into him every time he saw his brother’s face taunting him from the shadows. He could see him now, hiding behind the Shaman’s dresser and apothecary table. Haggard, gaunt, and bleeding from the wound Iridian had inflicted upon him. It wasn’t a nice scene, but, as soon as he had appeared, he was gone. “He’s just as he was on the night…”</p><p>The shaman tutted and rolled her eyes “The night you skewered him like a piece of fine meat, yes. Alright, then, he’s still alive. Somewhere, he’s planning his next attack and learning of his new form. One of pure darkness.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hey guys, it's Jamie!<br/>If you are like me, you were probably hilariously disappointed by the ending of Letter for The King. So, after taking some time to process the absolute buffoonery that went on in the writer's room, I put my little fingers to work writing up a fanfic to hopefully try and mend what they did in those last couple episodes.</p>
<p>I'm enjoying writing it so far, but I have a horrible track record of stopping writing something to move onto a different topic, so please yell at me if I do that.</p>
<p>I hope you enjoyed it!<br/>Please leave kudos and comments, it helps me encourage myself to keep going, and I also really love hearing what you guys think!<br/>Love, Jamie x</p></blockquote></div></div>
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